


Harvest Moon

by Nefaria_Black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellamort, Bellatrix is her own warning, Birthday, Blood and Violence, Child Murder, F/M, Full Moon, Harvest Moon - Freeform, Lemon zest - Freeform, Master/Servant, Murder, Nudity, Pet, Prompt Fic, Psychological Torture, Torture, first wizarding war, hint of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefaria_Black/pseuds/Nefaria_Black
Summary: A very special birthday is celebrated during the First Wizarding War.Warning for explicit murder and torture of both adults and children, as well as a hint of lemon zest (It's Bellamort, people, what else)
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Voldemort
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Harvest Moon

_Westmorland, September 22 nd 1978_

The moon was high in the sky, full and proud, lighting the destruction being inflicted down below, in the depths of the valley. There used to be just a handful of houses nestled by the hills, holding some twenty lives within their walls, but both those numbers had dwindled in the night.

Lord Voldemort had chosen a peculiar way to celebrate his most faithful’s birthday. He had gifted her a tiny town, and he sat back, content, watching her enjoy it. He had a purpose to this gift, the same way he had a purpose to all his actions, or so he told himself.

In the midst of these families, there was one that was particularly deserving of their attention. A couple of Muggle-borns and their lovely, filthy-blooded three little children. The family had tried to hide, thinking that living quietly, off-the-grid, deep in the Muggle world, would keep them safe.

The Dark Lord cast a long shadow, though, with tendrils of darkness that spread throughout the land, leaving no stone unturned. Even if they had never joined the Order, too fearful for their children, they were known allies, known accomplices, and _that_ made them the enemy.

And Merlin, did Bella like to destroy his enemies. Bit by bit or with a single furious blow, it mattered not. In the end, they were always gone.

She was his weapon, and he liked to wield it. She was his personal harbinger of death and chaos, the deadly creature he would unleash into the night, together with the Lestrange hell-hounds, announcing him.

She was also far more. To that, he admitted only in very small corner of his mind, banishing the notion completely from his heart. She had started as a pet of sorts, a beautiful woman he could keep on his arm at parties, a jewel of the purest blood he could dangle in the eyes of others. At first, she had been another statement of his power. She had proven worthy of much more in no time, and he had found himself drawn to her darkness, to her streak of barely controlled madness. He had found himself honing the blade of her, refining her aim, sculpting her into a master piece, training the dangerous beast that lurked in her mind to do his will, and his will alone, no questions asked.

That had led to other, earthier, endeavours. It was another layer of his control over her, he kept telling himself, as if she were not the only witch he had ever laid with for more than a purpose. As if she were only the outlet to his baser instincts, and not something he craved far more than he needed to.

oOo

Lord Voldemort sat on a beige sofa, legs crossed and arms spread to his sides, leaning on the very top of the back. He tilted his head, letting it fall back, and looked up. There used to be a roof to this house, there used to be an entire upper floor. Now, there was only the night sky and the full, proud moon.

A full moon on the summer equinox was supposed to be a good omen, telling of a bountiful Autumn. This sure was a good way to start. Sweet, dangerous Bella had already harvested a dozen lives, and now held the stems of five more in her dainty, pale hands, ready to uproot them and gift them to him.

He pulled his head upright again, and basked on the sight before him.

Bellatrix in all her glory, twirling in her element, laughing with that dark glee she alone possessed. Her midnight blue gown clinging to her as she moved, the colour made somehow deeper by the moonlight that bathed them both. She had worn the gown to her very proper birthday party at Castle Lestrange. She had danced with every man in her family in that gown, her braid waving like a cat’s tail down her back, a lure to the smooth movements of her hips. Lord Voldemort gulped at the memory of holding her close to his body as he, too, had danced with the birthday girl.

He found her movement enchanting, no matter the context. In a ballroom, in battle, in his bed, Bella had a grace of movement to her that witches all over tried to mimic, failing every time. Certain things took breeding, and her grace was one such thing.

He watched as Bella toyed with the knife in her hands, her wand holstered now that she had her playthings bound. She had the whole family together in the living room, the cries of the children magically silenced, but their tear-streaked faces all too visible to the parents. They were too little to have any form of control over their little powers, and they were far too terrified of the mighty creatures that had crawled into their home and cosy little bedrooms in the middle of the night.

Bella moved in between them, twirling the charmed blade on her hands, the silver knife catching the moon every now and then, and shining in a dark hue that told of its uncanny properties. No matter how minute the cut, it would always bleed, not healing for weeks. Bella found the throat of the little girl, red-faced with crying, and nicked it just so. Too far from anything vital to cause any true danger to the little girl’s life, far too close not to elicit the most beautiful screams of terror from the mother, and a most profane tirade from the father. Bella moved again, this time looming over the oldest of the boys, tangling her fingers on light-brown curls that clung to the skin beneath, made heavy by the sweat. Lord Voldemort shut the world away and focused solely on her, bathing in moonlight, completely enthralled by her macabre dance.

He pushed that heady distraction off his mind, and focused on the minds of the parents. This distracted by their children’s impending doom, their minds were nothing if vast plains he was free to roam. And in them, he found the information he needed, plucking it off and storing it neatly so that he could later, more carefully, sieve it.

“Bella,” he whispered, knowing that her keen mind would pick up on his voice anywhere, no matter the chaos, “I need nothing more from this filth. Be done with them.”

She smiled that wicked, toothy smile of hers, pulling her arms behind her back and squirming a bit on her feet, like a little girl that had just been caught red-handed and regretted nothing. Then, she laughed that crystal clear laugh that was the purest expression of happiness in her, untainted by darkness, never mind that it was probably rooted in it the majority of times.

Bella flicked her knife three times over three pale, little throats, creating three pools of crimson red on the wooden floor. She tilted her head at the screaming parents, well beyond words. She shook the blood off the knife then, and slowly, very slowly and very purposefully, pulled her midnight blue gown up, until the small dragon-hide sheath came into view, in sharp contrast against her almost milky skin, tied tightly around her thigh. She dared turn her eyes to him as her hands let go of the hem and let the blue cascade over her lovely long legs. Lord Voldemort gulped, this time in anticipation.

Bella had always loved the red curse.

The light that sparkled off the tip of her crooked wand was not red though, neither did it web around her victim. It was emerald green, his favourite, and it socked right into the chest of the wizard, blowing out the light in his blue eyes, as the words left Bella’s lips.

The witch next to him screamed a high pitched thing made of equals parts horror and pain. Bella laughed, not her crystal clear laugh but the mad cackle that lived in her depths, the most wicked part of her surfacing as the green painted her silhouette. She pointed her wand once more, and she caressed the air with the slow movements of her tongue and lips, unleashing death once more.

Lord Voldemort tilted his head, his dark eyes burrowing into his servant’s as she turned to face him, seeking approval from him. Sweet, dangerous Bella that he could undo with the merest hint of discontentment.

“Bored of your toys, already?” He clipped into the air between them.

“No, Master. I could never,” she replied, this time gathering her hands behind her back and lowering her head, like a child caught at fault. Still, her eyes never lowered to the ground, two wide grey pools capturing the moonlight, fixated on him.

Sweet, dangerous Bella would never be bored by anything he decided to bestow on her. Sweet, dangerous Bella had a light to her eyes, one that spoke of a hunger she would dare not voice. She was not bored. She was hungry for more, for the rest of her gift.

The greedy creature.

“Come here, you rotten creature,” he ordered with a flick of his fingers.

He had called her rotten the first time she had cast the _Cruciatus_ Curse, happily torturing a Muggle the week she was out of Hogwarts, and she had giggled. Actually giggled, her mind so happy in that moment that it broke her focus and halted her curse. He had meant it as a slight, a way to undermine her confidence, and instead it had become an endearment.

She walked to him, demurely, accentuating the graceful swaying of her hips, her braid dangling behind her. Seen, unseen, seen, unseen, setting the tempo of their desire.

Lord Voldemort stood up just as gracefully, taking two steps towards her before deftly taking her right hand, and plucking her wand from it as he made her spin around.

"When's the last time you slept?" He murmured into the shell of her ear, his breath on her hair, his tongue very lightly caressing her skin, as he holstered her wand at her waist.

“Just last night. Why, Master?”

“Because I plan to make you feel like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body against his, increasing the friction _there_ , where his blood was starting to throb. She hummed as he latched onto her neck, and he revelled on his ability to undo her.

He watched her mind go white and empty as he sucked on the spot where her pulse raced against his tongue. He pushed his heels off the floor, smirking into her skin as a single thought crossed her mind. She thought he was leaning onto her, looking for added resistance. Her feet left the ground before his did, and her mind remained oblivious to it. The wind around them tugged on their robes and tousled their hair, and still she cared for nothing but his touch.

oOo

He kept his mouth on her skin as he flew them out of the house, through the gaping mouth Bella had created, over to the top of the hill, leaving the now dead little town below.

He licked a path up the alabaster column of her neck, and she made the most delightful sound, hopelessly trying to turn around in his arms, her squirming aggravating both their needs. His tongue left her skin, and he felt a note of disappointment in her mind.

It was quickly replaced by something very different. Bellatrix clung to his arms with her hands, her carefully manicured nails digging into his sleeves and the skin beneath them. Fear. And thrill. She arched her back as she purchased for grip, in a gesture that was nearly painful for him, making his attention falter and the two of them suddenly fall.

The air rushed out of them both, then came back in as Lord Voldemort steadied himself and their position, several meters above the hill. The wind was harsh up here, pulling at Bella’s braid, undoing it as he undid her.

“Master, you can-you can…” Bella’s voice was lost to a shiver as her master latched his mouth to a point on her shoulder.

“I can make you soar in more ways than one,” he said to the softness of the hollow behind her collar bone.

She hummed her answer, and he could not help but drink the intoxicating sound from her lips. He lowered them as they kissed, his mind too distracted now to securely keep them up high.

“Won’t you finish your task, my rotten creature? Light the houses on fire. Let nothing remain of them.”

Bella did, retrieving her wand and pointing it at each house at a time. She didn’t simply set them on fire, though. That would be too plain, and his most faithful was anything but. Every house exploded with a roar, tall flames licking at the sky, competing with the moonlight.

He let her turn in his arms then, and thread her arms around his neck as she pulled herself higher, closer, and claimed his lips again. They fought for dominance, but only briefly. Though he could enjoy the challenge, she was far too aware of her place.

“Can’t we go now, Master? Please…”

“What’s missing, Bella? You’re not done yet,” he teased, biting her lip and increasing the distance between their mouths, leaving her wanting.

He looked into her eyes, forcing her to focus past the mist of desire that clouded them. He smiled as he recognized the glint of comprehension in them, and lowered his lips to hers again. A reward for good behaviour.

“Morsmordre,” she ushered into the kiss, pointing her wand up and bathing them in eerie green light.

oOo

He pushed her onto the bed, and she stretched, languorous. Her dress was the same colour as the quilt on his bed. Midnight blue. He wondered if it had been planned, before smiling at his foolishness. Everything was planned with his most faithful, especially when it came to pleasing him. Nothing was ever left to chance.

He placed his hands on her thighs and ran them up, until he could wrap his fingers around the bottom of her ribcage, pushing air out of her lungs in a most delirious gasp. He lowered his head onto her cleavage, spreading cruel little bites along the line between fabric and skin knowing that, come the morning, there would be a neat row of purple blooms for him to admire.

His hands dug into the fabric, pulling it tight, until he could hear the stretch of the stitches, then he whispered a spell into her skin and the gown was gone, banished off her body and to a nearby chair. Bella’s body arched, like a bow strung too tight, her skin prickling at the sudden coolness. He let his nails dance around in the shadows the moonlight, pouring in through the large windows, cast on her. Her black curls, now free, spread like spilled black ink, catching little tendrils of light here and there.

Bella broke the spell of the moon, moving her hands to the silver clasps of his robes, but he swatted her hands away, playfully, and proceeded to remove her undergarments, making sure to drag them over her skin, robbing her of every ounce of control.

“Stay,” he commanded her, as he rose to a standing position and disrobed himself, his eyes ever roaming her naked body, ever fighting the enchanting lure of her heavy-lidded eyes, forcing himself to take his time and measure his gestures.

Naked, he crawled over her and the familiar cradle of her thighs welcomed him. He drove his fingers into her curls, exposing more of her neck, and she draped her legs over him, her feet lightly caressing the backside of his thighs.

He rocked into her, sharing in her grace of movement, enveloped by her sweet darkness.

oOo

Lord Voldemort heaved still as his mind came down from the heights of pleasure. He slowed down his breathing, feeling the air move in and out of his nostrils, inhaling the scent of her, almost tasting her. Bella was a pliant, sated creature beneath him, muscles loose, every harsh bit of her removed. His pet at her tamest, absolutely no pressure on her leash.

He didn’t move, not until he felt Bella carefully ran her fingers across the many scars on his back and on his sides. She had a way of mapping his skin, exploring his every feature, never in an intrusive way. It was adoration, her own particular form of prayer.

He pushed himself off of her and let his body lie by her side. He waved his hand dismissively, cleaning them both, smirking as Bella closed the gap of her thighs, pressing her legs together, as if trying to hold on to him. He stared up, at the equally blue high canopy of his bed, acutely aware of the way her eyes scanned the visible side of his face.

He had once been a beautiful boy, then a stunning young man. He had been handsome once, truly masculine in his sharp features. He was no longer. His face and his body had been marred by magic. The power he amassed taking a physical toll on him. He was not ugly, his face too noble for such a word, but he had scars that were bad enough to disfigure him.

Lord Voldemort caught the train of thought in Bella’s mind, always unguarded when they were alone, as it should be. He found her wondering about where, and how, he had got such scars, though she never pitied them, never felt the urge to try and make them better. All she wanted was to learn, to gather more power so as to better serve him, though the vanity in her wondered if she, too, would one day bear scar such as his.

"We all bear scars... mine just happen to be more visible than most," he said, immediately scolding himself for such a foolish, mellow remark.

Bella was careful to guide the conversation away, though, removing the burden of admitting to having said something crass from him.

“You are more powerful than most,” she said, “more powerful than the rest of them, Master.” She flipped onto her belly then, reaching for him, mapping the red, angry scar that stretched from his left hip bone to his ribcage.

They were silent for a moment, quiet. Two pale bodies against deep blue brocade woven through with silver, like two ghosts in the night sky.

Lord Voldemort looked at his most exquisite creature, thinking that such a pet certainly deserved a pretty collar. He reached with his right arm and extracted a small parcel from his bedside table.

He offered the gift by dangling it from his thumb and middle finger, over the side of him, as if teasing a cat to play.

“Happy birthday, Bella.”

She played along. She slithered closer and stretched across him, her long arm reaching, her breasts dragging on his belly, her backside arching just so. A carefully bred cat licking its lips at the sight of milk, he thought, for Bella had always liked jewels, and seemed to have an innate sense of when he was bestowing her with one.

"I don't need presents, I have you," she murmured, kissing his chest as she picked the present from his fingers, as if she were handpicking fruit. “I mean, I have your company, Master.” She kneeled by his side then, knowing that she had slid into sentimentality and that it was not allowed. She held her gift on her lap, eyes lowered, the picture of the most sinful penitent, the moon that peeked through the window hallowing her.

Lord Voldemort stared at the bridge of her nose until she looked back. He nodded, serious, letting her know that he had taken notice of her fault, but that she would not be punished for it. Just a slight tug on her leash, enough to keep her on her feet.

Bellatrix took the cue, unwrapping and opening the case. Her fingers extracted a necklace, a small but thick silver chain with the darkest of diamonds dangling from it. She brought it up with elegant gestures, raising her arms more than she needed to, drawing his attention to her lovely breasts as she did so. She hooked the clasp behind her neck, and the dark diamond sat precisely on the hollow of her throat.

She cared not for a mirror, only for the reflection on his dark eyes. He took in the sight of her, and decided she was not yet nearly as tired as he planned for her to be. The full moon was still high on the horizon, and he had not yet reaped her.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts and Challenges  
> Astronomy: Objects of Interest Task #2 - Moons: Write about an event set on the full moon (restriction: not a werewolf transformation)  
> 366 Prompts Challenge 274 Rotten  
> Insane Prompt List 866 Spells Morsmordre  
> January Writing Club Assorted Appreciation 19 Moon Spell Alt: Full Moon; Trope of the Month 12 Dialogue: "When's the last time you slept?"; The Fabulous World of Comics 27 (Character) Voldemort; Book Club 1 Celaena Sardothien — (dialogue) "We all bear scars... mine just happen to be more visible than most.", (word) weapon, (object) knife; Showtime 7 The Butterfly - (action) Flying; Film Festival 21 (word) family  
> Winter Seasonal Challenges Days of the Year March 13th - Jewel Day: Write about giving or receiving jewellery; Winter Challenge 10 (word) Harsh; Colours 3 Midnight Blue; Birthstones 9 Lapis Lazuli: (dialogue) "I don't need presents, I have you."; Slytherin Challenge 24 Bellatrix Lestrange; Star Chart Ursids Meteor Shower: Word: Enchanting; Religious Holidays/Events March 9th - Magha Puja Day (Buddhist): Write a fic set on the full moon;


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